“And that’s a wrap!” the Director said. “A round of applause for the best cast and crew any Director could hope for.”
While champagne bottled burst open, the cast and crew applauded each other’s work. For a moment, Valerie was in a crush of hugs and pats on the back. Mike’s height and bulk moved easily through the sea of people who wanted to touch Valerie. He stood near her while she finished talking to the other actors and crew. When the crowd thinned, he took her arm and helped her toward the door. They were stopped near the door by the Producer. The Director and Assistant Director came over to talk to them.
“We’ll see you very soon!” the Director said.
Valerie waved and Mike made it to the door. He helped her into the SUV where she collapsed into the seat. She was asleep when he got into the driver’s seat. He drove through the Hollywood traffic to the Chateau Marmot. Still asleep, she opened her eyes when he carried her into their little cottage. He stripped off her clothes and settled her into bed. After using the bathroom, he got in bed beside her.
“I didn’t shower,” Valerie mumbled.
“You’re just fine.”
“I smell,” she mumbled.
“You’re perfect.”
With a smile on her face, she fell asleep. Mike turned on his side to watch her sleep.
She’d worked her butt off on this movie. The cast and crew loved her. The Director already hired her to do the voice in an animated feature when she was pregnant. The producer cast her in another movie for next year. According to her agent, she was the hottest property in Hollywood.
Mike felt like he was in the eye of the hurricane.
Hottest property or no, for the next few months, he wouldn’t have to share her with the world. She would put the same work ethic into making their daughter the best she could be. They would live and love at the Castle.
He felt a little sad that the ‘becoming a star’ phase of their life was over. His mind reviewed the years of work and the disaster that had been their relationship. He sighed.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Life is changing,” he whispered.
“Not us?” she asked. Her large hazel eyes opened and closed. Puzzling, she opened her eyes again to see him.
“No, not us,” he whispered. “Just life.”
“Oh good,” she said. “The way you sighed, I thought something was wrong.”
Mike smiled at a typical Val sentiment. As long as her relationships were good, Valerie could take on anything. He opened his mouth to say something but she was asleep again.
Smiling, he joined her.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED and SIXTEEN
Fat/non-fat
Four days later
Tuesday — 11:20 A.M.
“Where am I?” Sissy asked as she sat up in her hospital bed.
“Children’s Hospital,” Sandy said.
Sandy sat down on her little sister’s bed.
“How did I get here?” Sissy asked.
“You don’t remember?” Sandy asked.
“I remember seeing Charlie. I remember meeting Noelle and Nash and Teddy and his Dad. He’s your pilot. Right?”
“He is.”
“I remember thinking I was going to see you!” Sissy said. “We went to some place…”
She shook her head.
“Everyone ordered burgers and fries,” Sandy said. “You ate most of yours then collapsed. You had a seizure at the restaurant and then again in the ambulance.”
“A seizure? I’ve never had a seizure before,” Sissy said.
“You almost died.” Tears ran down Sandy’s face. “Well, you did die in the ambulance. They were able to get your heart started. You…”
Sandy shook her head. Her hand swiped at her tears.
“My heart didn’t stop! You’re making this up,” Sissy said. “I’m not even sick!”
Overcome, Sandy began to cry into her hands. She’d promised herself she would be the grown up, she would not cry, but this was too hard, too painful.
“You’re making it up,” Sissy repeated.
Sandy raised her head to catch her sister’s eyes. She shook her head.
“Why did I almost die?” Sissy’s voice was no louder than a whisper.
“Because you haven’t been eating,” Sandy said. “Why, Sis? Why? Why did you stop eating?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Sissy’s voice was more annoyed than defensive. “After Charlie left, Mom stopped shopping. The only thing that was in the house was cheese. I hate cheese and the cereal ran out a couple weeks ago. She would give me money for lunch. I always gave my lunch money to Charlie. He really needed it. He didn’t have a home like I did.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Sandy asked. “Come by. You know where the salon is…”
“I don’t know,” Sissy said. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad at you?” Sandy asked.
“Because I didn’t help you when Mom was so awful,” Sissy said.
Shaking her head, Sandy hugged Sissy to her.
“Where’s Mom?” Sissy asked.
“That’s a long story,” Sandy said. “You’re on the Eating Disorders ward, Sis. They will keep you here until you’re well. Right now, it’s still touch and go. You have to participate in therapy and groups and…”
“How am I going to pay for this?” Sissy asked.
“You have medical insurance through Dad’s Police Union,” Sandy said. “They’re paying for most of it.”
“Oh,” Sissy said. “Will I get fat?”
“I hope so,” Sandy said.
“No really,” Sissy said. “I don’t want to be fat.”
“The therapist told me you think this because you were starving yourself,” Sandy said. “You, Sis, are tall and thin. You’ll probably never ever be fat. Was Dad fat?”
“No, but Mom is.”
“We don’t ever want to be like Mom,” Sandy smiled.
“Never like Mom,” Sissy agreed. “Can I touch the baby?”
Sandy sighed. She took Sissy’s hand and place it on her belly.
“Is Charlie all right?” Sissy asked. “He seemed really happy, happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“He started rehab yesterday,” Sandy said. “He’s not as happy as he was on Thursday.”
“He needs rehab,” Sissy said. “I know you hate Mom. And I know she deserves it. She’s been awful and is crazy. But I love Mom. She can’t make it without me. I should be with Mom.”
“Mom’s in a six month treatment program,” Sandy said. “We had it all set up. Social Services, the Police Union Rep, and Seth went to her work. They were going to give her the option to go to rehab or get treatment at home. You know how she can be when someone tries to make her do something. Stubborn. Defiant.”
“Mean.”
“Right. The Police Union rep told her she’d lose the stipend for you and Charlie. Anyway, I guess it was chaos,” Sandy said.
“Of course,” Sissy said.
“When you collapsed… She was charged with reckless child endangerment. The Police Union rep told her it was jail or treatment. She was still being stubborn. The Police arrested her and everything.”
“What changed her mind?” Sissy asked.
“You remember my friend Heather?” Sandy asked.
“Mom works with her mom,” Sissy said.
“Right,” Sandy said. “Heather’s Mom. That’s what changed her mind. I don’t know what Heather’s Mom said but somehow she got through to Mom. The Police took her to the treatment place. It’s a locked facility so she couldn’t get out for seventy-two hours.”
“Oh,” Sissy said.
“Get this,” Sandy said. “I’ve called every morning and every night to see how she’s doing. Last night’s the first time she took my call. She wanted to know where Charlie was and how you were doing. She told me she was sorry for everything that happened to me. She said she’s exactly where she needs to be right now.”
�
�We’re all in treatment,” Sissy’s eyes were luminous.
“I hope you get better,” Sandy nodded. “If you get better, we’ll go and visit Mom in a month or so. If she does well there, she can stay there for up to a year.”
“What about the house?” Sissy’s voice dropped to a whisper. “There are rats there.”
Sissy held her hands out a foot apart.
“Yuck,” Sandy said. “I hired a service that takes care of places like that. Mom gave power of attorney to Heather’s Mom. Heather’s Mom has helping me get everything set up. By the time Mom is better, Charlie is better, and you’re better, the house should be ready for you to live there, if you want to.”
“What about Charlie and me? Do we have to live with the rats?” Sissy asked.
“You’ll live with me,” Sandy said. “I’ll take care of you. If Mom is able to be a mom again, then you can move back with her. If you don’t want to or she can’t be a mom again, then you’ll stay with me.”
“What about your new husband? And…” Sissy touched Sandy’s bulging belly.
“We’ll live together,” Sandy said. “Aden…”
“The gym guy?” Sissy asked. “You married the gym guy? Mom said he was some old guy but…”
“I married the gym guy,” Sandy smiled. “Nash and Noelle are his kids.”
“We’ll all live together?”
“If you want,” Sandy nodded.
“I do want!” Sissy moved to get out of bed.
“Sorry Sis,” Sandy said. “You have to stay here for a while.”
“For treatment?”
Sandy nodded.
“Are you sure I need it?” Sissy asked.
“I am,” Sandy said.
“Don’t be sad, Sandy,” Sissy said. “If Charlie gets well and I get well and Mom gets well, we could be a real family again. Like before Dad died.”
Sandy smiled.
“I need you to do something for me, Sis,” Sandy said.
“Anything,” Sissy said.
“I need you to work really hard in treatment,” Sandy said. “It will seem stupid sometimes, boring other times, and you might hate it. But this is where you need to be right now.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Good,” Sandy said. “You have to do most of it yourself.”
“I do?”
“I can only visit you a couple of times a week. We’ll be here for visitation and family therapy. The doctors and your therapist are waiting for you outside the door. They let me come in to wake you. But you have to do the rest alone.”
“I can do it, Sandy. You’ll see,” Sissy said.
Sandy stood from the bed. She gave a little wave and walked to the door. At the door, she paused. Unable to stop herself, she ran back to the child’s bed. Clasping the skeleton that had become her sister, she whispered:
“Please get well. Please get well. Please Sis, for me, please get well.”
Crying, the sisters held each other. Sandy felt hands on her shoulders. The therapist peeled her from Sissy. Sandy gave Sissy another wave and walked to the door. Standing at the door, she caught her sister’s dark eyes. Sissy waved and Sandy went out the door. She made it all the way through the hospital to where Aden waited for her. In his arms, she cried her heart out.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday mid-day — 12:56 P.M.
Walking down the Art Institute corridor, Jill looked from door to door until she found the room for her first class on Interior Design. She’d taken an entire semester before taking this class. She was lucky to have an Interior Design class at all. A lot of schools don’t teach specialty classes until the very end. She was about to turn into the class when a woman pushed in past her and into the room.
Jill stopped. That was the awful woman who made fun of her all of last term. The awful woman already made a joke today about whether the secretary went with them on vacation. Everyone laughed. At Jill. About that stupid lying woman. Now that awful woman was in Jill’s dream class.
“I won’t let her get to me,” Jill repeated in her head what Megan had told her. “She will not get to me.”
The teacher looked up when she came into the room. A direct descendent of the painter, Salvator Rosa was one of Denver’s top interior designers. Intimidated, Jill went toward the back of the class. Seeing the awful woman there, she found a seat near the middle of the class. She took out her paper, mechanical pencil, and an eraser. No matter who was in this class, she was not going to miss a word of what this man had to say.
“Ok, let’s get started,” the man said. “Most of you know who I am. Rather than take our time with ego, you can read the catalog about me. You may call me Sal.
“I have a list of your names,” Salvator said. “Over the next twelve weeks, we will get to know each other very well. And at the end of twelve weeks, you will know whether you have a chance of being an interior designer in this city.
“If you haven’t heard, I will teach a new concept each week. Every Friday, we will hold a contest for who creates the best room. Many of my colleagues say you’re too new, too young to face such pressure. But working in someone else’s home is a lot of pressure. You have to know their taste, know what they like, and make them very, very happy or you will never get work again. If you can’t handle a little friendly competition now, you will never handle the pressure later.
“I can understand if you would like to transfer into Mr. Donavon’s course,” he said. “You have this week to transfer. I’d encourage anyone thinking of transferring to do so. In this class, we will work hard. I don’t have time for egos. I don’t have time for lazy people. And I don’t have time for anyone who doesn’t want to be the very best they can be.”
Jill sat up a little straighter in her chair. She wanted to be the very best she could be. She liked to work hard. And she didn’t think she had too big of an ego. She glanced around the room to see how the other students were responding. Most students seemed excited. Awful woman sneered. Jill turned her eyes back to the teacher.
“Who is Jillian Roper?” Salvator asked.
Jill raised her hand. Awful woman snickered.
“Stand beside your chair when I call on you,” he said.
“I’m Jillian Roper, sir,” Jill popped to her feet.
“I had dinner last night at the Biatchi mansion,” Salvator said. “I understand you and your husband did some rehabilitation there?”
“Yes sir.” Jill swallowed hard.
“Can someone get the lights?” the teacher asked.
The room went dark. Jill moved to sit down, but the teacher indicated she should keep standing. An image of the room they had refurbished came on the screen.
“Can you explain what you did?” Salvator asked.
“Yes sir,” Jill said. “This room had been a formal dining room. Sometime in the last two hundred years, this room was flooded. For whatever reason, the water was let to stand on the wood for some time. If you had seen this room, you would have thought it was impossible.”
“I thought it was impossible when they asked me,” Salvator said.
He leaned over the computer and clicked a photo of the original condition of the room.
“My husband, Jacob, brings out beauty in things that are broken or destroyed,” Jill said. “He and a crew of our guys worked for three months to restore the room to its original condition.”
“Mrs. Biatchi said he rebuilt many of the features by hand,” Salvator said.
“He’s a carpenter,” Jill said. “He likes to recreate things in the way they were originally built.”
The screen flashed to the room before Jill started her work.
“This is the blank palate you will all work with this week,” Salvator said. “First, let’s show you what Jillian Roper did.”
The screen flashed a photo of the whole room. The room was a wash in Rose color. The top half of the walls were painted a rich cream color. Pink, yellow and purple flowers in what looked like wall paper adorned the bottom half of
the walls. A period piece crystal chandelier hung over the twelve person mission style cherry dining room table. The table was covered in a deep maroon table covering. The floors gleamed in a cherry wash. The students shifted restlessly.
“Wait,” Salvator said. “Let’s take a closer look.”
The next photograph was a close up of one of the walls.
“You thought it was wall paper,” Salvator said. “I did as well. But look, it’s actually painted. And look!”
He zoomed in on the picture. A small human face looked out among the flowers.
“This is the owner’s youngest son,” he said. His voice was elevated in excitement. “The Biatchi’s, their four children, even the owner’s dog are hidden among this floral display. Mrs. Biatchi was over the moon. Will you tell us Jillian, why you chose this?”
“At the time this room was built, wall paper was a sign of status,” Jill said. “In the high end homes, the wall paper was hand painted. Rather than paint the paper, I decided to paint the walls. My brother, Mike, and I painted the walls together. He drew the flowers and the people before he left for Prague. I filled in the color while he was gone.”
“Why put the people on the walls?”
“Mrs. Biatchi asked us to personalize the room,” Jill said. “It seemed only natural.”
“You would think all this pink makes the room feminine,” Salvator said. “But the choice of the cherry floors and this table even out the femininity of the pinks. Tell me about the chandelier. Where did you get it?”
“My husband found it, sir,” Jill said.
“Found it?”
“Yes sir,” Jill said. “He owns an underground utility company. They were working a job out in Northern Colorado. Someone was working on a farmhouse near Greely. They left this chandelier on the side of the road. The owner offered to pay him to haul it to the trash. Jacob got a number of fixtures from him.”
“Was it in this condition?”
“No sir,” Jill said. “It was originally was gas powered. I had to power wash it to get the dirt, grease and tar off it. After a day of cleaning, we realized it was copper. Our electrician rewired it. We had to get a few of the crystals remade but otherwise it was perfect.”
Cimarron, Denver Cereal Volume 4 Page 30